


Hot Professors and Underwear Models

by meshkol (ashernorton)



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Darcy Lewis Is Thirsty, Inspired by Twitter, M/M, Professor Tony Stark, shameless crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:02:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23677315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashernorton/pseuds/meshkol
Summary: Darcy Lewis is a simple gal, and by simple gal, she means unapologetically thirsty.Nothing wrong with some eye-candy mixed in with classes, anyway.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 57
Kudos: 552
Collections: Absolute Faves





	Hot Professors and Underwear Models

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nostalgicatsea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nostalgicatsea/gifts).



> There I was, writing my two nearly-due bang fics and minding my own business when [this tweet](https://twitter.com/nostalgicatsea/status/1250310938953019394) from nostalgicatsea was branded into my corneas. Thanks for that.
> 
> Shameless unbeta'd crack and please enjoy!

Darcy Lewis is a simple gal.

She likes long walks on the beach, dancing in the rain with a charming man, candlelit dinners, cuddling on loveseats, and puppies. Her favourite colour is pink, has a great relationship with her mother, and is saving herself for marriage like she pledged at a Purity Ball to her father. She is a well-behaved, proper college student, here to earn her bachelor’s degree without making a fuss or getting into trouble like some of her classmates, specifically with alcohol and copious amounts of inadvisable one-night stands.

Also, all of that is a lie because fuck the patriarchy and hell yes to sex and booze.

And smoking hot college professors.

Case in point: Dr Anthony Stark, head of the Engineering department at Culver.

Now, _normally_ Darcy wouldn’t be caught dead in the mathematics and science departments, because she’s a political science major and not a major-class nerd, but basics are the bane of humanity and she’s forced to take some sort of maths and science credit. At least the science one is easy – she’s got that _the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell!_ shit down like the last round of tequila shots at a grunge bar and she’s a _big_ fan of biology (particularly when it comes connected to some hot hunk of sexy).

The mathematics credit is a bit tougher. She’s always been crap at it, more of a politics and gotta-talk-to-everyone kinda gal (hence the obvious major), and she’d been gearing up to take the most generic maths classes in the history of maths classes when her college best friend – Alex, a fellow equal-opportunity sweet-talker and the craziest motherfucker she’s ever met – had directed her to the obvious choice in classes, namely Dr Stark’s Statistics class because of the _serious_ eye-candy.

It’s actually kind of fun, if she’s honest – serious eye-candy or not, it’s pretty obvious that the guy loves teaching, and his enthusiasm is infectious. It’s an added bonus that he lets everyone talk and throw shit _for scientific probability purposes_ and is genuinely hilarious. He’s also dead-smart, and doesn’t mind if students ask him questions about anything maths- or science-based outside of the actual class he’s teaching, so she actually gets pretty good grades in both her bio _and_ stat classes because he’s so damn good at teaching in a way she can understand.

Still, he’s definitely nine kinds of smoking hot: maybe in his late forties or early fifties, fit as fuck and compact, eyes and eyelashes to die for behind those square-framed glasses, sculpted facial hair that just emphasises his gorgeous bone structure, a fashion sense that’s both professor-chic and blatantly expensive (dude clearly gets paid the big bucks), and a mouth she’d love to have sweet-talk her (or just plain _on_ her). Sure, he’s married, judging by the ring on his finger, but there’s no harm in drinking in that delectable view three times a week. Considering the amount of money she spends on tuition, it’s about damn time she got something nice to look at instead of old, paunchy professors with an entitlement complex the size of Russia.

The entire class is full of people who are mostly there to salivate over Dr Stark, Darcy included, _and_ they get some quality education out of it too. Darcy would climb him like a tree if he was single, and _damn_ it’s a shame he’s married because she would tap that shit for sure. Darcy knows she’s hot too, and it’s not like students don’t regularly sleep with professors for better grades all the time, if the CU rumour mill is to be believed (though no one could possibly fail this class, considering how easily Dr Stark can make all of the material understandable and frequently gives one-on-one instruction to make sure they’ve all got it).

He is married though, and judging by how hot he is, he’s probably got some equally hot wife who is, like, a NASA engineer or playboy bunny or something, and she wouldn’t mind having a front-row seat to _that_ show either, that’s for damn sure. Darcy’s a very proud bisexual woman and loves to get freaky, so she’d be down for some good old-fashioned consensual voyeurism, or if she’s ridiculously fortunate, get to join in with the NC-17 festivities. Considering how attentive and detail-oriented Dr Stark is, he’s probably a hell of a lay. God, but his wife is one lucky woman indeed.

And then, one week before finals, Darcy’s mind is _blown_.

It’s a normal class, she supposes, everyone salivating at their professor but attentive. Darcy’s doing her usual, namely daydreaming about what it’d be like to get into Dr Stark’s perfectly fitted pants while also paying complete attention because he’s so charmingly infectious, and she’s definitely not alone. Alex is right next to her, a nauseatingly besotted smile on his face as he watches Dr Stark pace and gesture wildly as he talks, and a quick glance around shows that they’re not alone in their unashamed appreciation. She’s pretty sure Rachel Darrin, who’s an absolute troll and makes the best blue motorcycles she’s ever had, is actually drooling, making heart-eyes at the poor man.

At least Dr Stark seems to be a good sport about all of his admirers.

In the middle of a point about data mining, writing on the smart projector (that he’d apparently _designed himself_ ) with a digital pen for the visual learners, Dr Stark suddenly cuts off, head cocking at the board for a second before he spins around, eyes glancing over the class quickly as if taking stock. He slips the pen in between his lips – Alex sighs dreamily, shifting in his seat, the thirsty bitch – and crosses his arms almost sternly, then lowers his chin, peering over the frames of his glasses towards the doorway of the small lecture hall.

“Well now I’m nervous,” he says airily, smiling so brightly it’s almost blinding, and immediately the collective class snaps their heads around to look at the recipient of that smile.

Whoever it is, he’s clearly a Calvin Klein underwear model: dirty blond hair that looks windswept, bone structure that’s more chiselled than a Michelangelo sculpture, baby blue eyes and full lips just made for kissing (or going down on someone), and a ridiculously sculpted body under tight clothing that is probably used to cut diamonds. Honestly, she’s pretty sure it’s illegal to have that shoulder-to-waist ratio, and if it’s not, it _should_ be because that man could likely stop traffic with just a smile. He’s hands-down the hottest man she’s ever seen in her entire life (and that’s a tall order because Bradley Cooper and Chris Pine are on the top of her list for a reason), and no human alive can blame her for her jaw dropping, eyes nearly popping out of her skull because she’s got a serious lady boner going on right now and it’s _insistent_.

She absently wonders if he does artistically naked photoshoots for outré magazines so she can set up a shrine, or better yet, if he does porn.

“Sorry for interrupting,” Mr Tall, Blond, and Handsome says, his voice low and smooth. “Do you have a moment?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dr Stark says around the pen in his mouth, clacking against his teeth, and she kind of wants to see Dr Stark's mouth move on it but she can’t take her eyes off Mr TBH. “Can you all give me about...”

“Five minutes?” Mr TBH suggests.

There’s a rustle, a clatter, and she sees Dr Stark make his way towards Mr TBH from the corner of her eye. He calls out cheerfully, “If I’m not back in twenty, I’m probably still busy on my kn—”

“ _Tony_ ,” Mr TBH admonishes, his young features set in a heavy frown, but even from Darcy’s seat she can tell he’s amused.

“—owledge assessment, and I see where _your_ mind’s at, you horrible, horrible man. There are young and impressionable _students_ here. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

Mr TBH shakes his head with exasperation and says to the fascinated, drooling class with a sheepish smile, “I don’t actually know this man.”

“That’s not what you said last night,” Dr Stark quips, finally reaching Mr TBH and pecking him on the lips with a fond, long-familiar ease.

Darcy nearly falls out of her chair because _holy hot damn there really is a God!_

“My husband the joker,” Mr TBH (Mr Stark?) drawls good-naturedly, then says to everyone, “I’m Steve. Sorry again for interrupting your class, and I’ll have him back in five minutes.”

“Twenty.”

“ _Five_.”

“Take as long as you need!” Darcy calls out as evenly as she can manage, even though she’s torn between screaming at the hotness overload and begging to shamelessly watch them fuck just _once_ , and Jesus, she can’t see how Dr Stark gets anything done with that specimen of human perfection waiting at home for him. Hell, she can’t see how either one of them gets anything done, if they get to roll around doing naked acrobatics with each other on their downtime. They’re both smoking hot alone, but _together_? She’s positive that there isn’t a better-looking couple on the face of the _planet_ , and she would do anything to be a fly on the wall in their bedroom. It’d have to be a fly on the wall actually, because she would definitely combust from pure sexual overload if she was in the middle of that godly sandwich.

“Thanks!” Dr Stark calls out, and drags his underwear model husband out of the lecture hall, the door banging behind them with an echo.

There’s a long moment of utter silence, the entire class staring at the closed door with dropped jaws and wide eyes, and then Darcy says out loud in pure awe, “I would literally sacrifice myself to Satan for a sex tape.”

It’s utter pandemonium after that.


End file.
